William Shakespeare

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of read more

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long,
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm.
So hallowed and so gracious is that time.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied read more

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises; and oft it hits
Where hope read more

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises; and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest and despair most fits.

His nature is too noble for the world.
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or read more

His nature is too noble for the world.
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for's power to thunder.

The big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase. -As You Like It. Act ii. read more

The big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.